The Hypochondriac in Me

Remember when I mentioned that I get invested in fictional stories?  Television and books become part of me and I take them way too seriously.  Fiction becomes fact and I will remember the most random things that I will then relate to my life to convince myself of something.

Like A Summer to Die. And it is exactly like what you would think a book of that title would be about: death.  A family moves to the country and the older, more popular sister starts getting nose bleeds (along with various other ailments, but the nosebleeds stuck with me).  One night she gets a really bad one and her twin bed is soaked with blood by the time her sister wakes up and realizes what’s going on.  Her parents rush her to the hospital where it’s found out that she has cancer.  A couple of months later she dies.

A depressing story for sure, and even just writing about it makes me want to cry.  And I store up bits of this story for use at a later date.

Like right now.  For the past two months or so I’ve been getting pretty regular nosebleeds.  Once while driving to work blood just started dripping from my nose and I had to find a gas station to clean myself up.  Yesterday I woke up to feel the familiar rush of blood and caught it before the sheets were ruined.  This morning before I left for work another one started.  Yes, I realize that three in two months isn’t a big deal, but these are the only three big ones.  The other ones have been relatively small and haven’t really disrupted anything.

In the past week there have been three and I’m starting to get freaked out.  Logically I know that the reason for them could be something as simple as my body hasn’t acclimated to the climate of Southern Calfornia and the dry winter climate is wreaking havoc on me.   I know all these things, and yet I can’t help but build up scenarious where these are symptoms of something more serious.  My blood isn’t clotting; I have some sort of cancer; someone’s giving me cocaine while I sleep.  And then I worry about how much blood I’m actually losing.  Are three nosebleeds in a week enough to make a difference?  Probably not, considering how much people can donate and not be affected.

I’ve got some home remedies to try, but the next step may be to a doctor.  Maybe having a professional tell me I’m crazy (as opposed to just my brother and my boyfriend) would help quiet the hypochondriac in me.

1 Comment

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One response to “The Hypochondriac in Me

  1. momoke

    You are what you think…to a certain degree. Climate can do it. Stress can do it. Lack of sleep can do it. If you’re truly, druly concerned…go to a doc. Should never play with your health.

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